


Alone

by tigs



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-26
Updated: 2003-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:05:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigs/pseuds/tigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will just wanted to be alone. [Will/Elizabeth UST]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

 

  
**Alone**  
by Sarah

_Date: August 26, 2003_  
 _Length: 500 words_  
 _Challenge: Anywhere but here._

Once, it had been Will’s dream to have Elizabeth knock on the door to his forge, to see her smile at him as she stepped through the rickety doorframe. To hear her say his name, the single syllable rolling off of her tongue like a wave rolled off the shore.

Now, it was his nightmare. One that he relived day after day after day, because she’d been coming to see him day after day after _day_.

Now, when he saw her, he wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else. Back on Barbossa’s ship with nothing to look forward to but death. Up at Fort Charles, breaking Jack out of his cell again, so they could steal another ship and sail far, far away.

He just wanted to be alone.

"Will," she said. "Look at me."

He closed his eyes.

Not that she would know, because he was standing by his anvil, his back to her, his hammer raised as if to strike the rapidly cooling sword clenched in his other fist.

He didn’t strike, though. He didn’t move at all.

"Will."

She took a step towards him; he could hear the sound of her skirts rustling, a whisper of cloth that seemed unnaturally loud against the backdrop of the world outside, of the donkey breathing, of the fires burning in the corner of the room.

"Please," she said.

He could picture her raising a hand, pale fingers—so clean, so white—reaching to touch his work-stained cheek tenderly, like he wanted her to, and he turned away from that image, rolling on the ball of his foot.

But against his better judgement, against his ego’s self-preservation instinct, he opened his eyes and he looked over his shoulder. At her.

She was standing no more than three feet away, her lips pinched together, her eyes damp.

"Will," she whispered.

_"Why do you do this?"_ he wanted to ask. _"Why must you come here every single day? To torture me? To remind me that the one thing I’ve ever wanted in this world, I can’t have? Why?"_

He didn’t ask, though. He didn’t say. Instead, he clenched his hammer more tightly, lifting it to his chest as he turned around. The sword that he’d been clutching dropped to the ground, clanging softly on the dirt covered floor.

He opened his mouth, to speak, to say something. What, he didn’t know, but he saw hope in her eyes: that he would say something to make this strain between them go away; that he would say that her impending marriage to Norrington was okay with him.

Hope that he would utter those three words that they’d both been waiting, wanting to hear.

"Miss Swann," he said, keeping his voice calm, even, formal. Keeping his chin up, he looked her in the eye. "What can I do for you today?"

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she uttered a soft sob, turned on her heel, and was gone.

And Will was alone.

Just like he’d wanted to be.


End file.
